Tell her about your dad being white.

In 2011, in the happier days of this blog. anonygirl, who claimed to be a white girl dating an AMWF Hapa, gave me some advice.

She wrote
“Look, I know you’re likely just going to shoot this down, but if the blonde still isn’t dating anybody, you should try to be “serious” with her, if only just for a moment, an hour. “Listen, I really like you, and I’d like to talk with you. Let me buy you coffee,” something like that. If she says yes, congrats, go on a date. Suspend your self hatred for long enough to enjoy yourself and actually talk to her, drop the bullshit and just talk. Tell her about your dad being white. Whatever. Get personal. Stop acting like a character, hell, maybe even tell her about it, ask her (a real live white girl) what she thinks of this whole thing. Write a furtively hopeful blog post about it.”

Now on the face of it, that is the stupidest advice possible. For a brief moment of time, I was able to stay above my Hapa melancholy, by forgetting who I was. By pretending to be someone I was not. By hiding my Hapa angst, and being happy. Those days are long gone now. I’m now far lower than I was in 2011, when people already thought I was unhealthily depressed. Rather 2011 was the peak in happiness of my life. I had just come down off my 1st blonde girl, and there were more happy moments with white girls waiting in the future. Peaceful, gentle moments, in which we laughed together. In which we were just 2 people, talking to each other. And I could for an instance forget the monster I really was. I could hope that maybe there was a moment she saw some good in me. Perhaps I will write about some of these instances in the future. To show that I was not always hiding in my basement. That I was out there for people, but it taught me these lessons. Perhaps like Obama, who combined all his white girlfriends into one composite girlfriend, I will do the same. Of course they were not my girlfriends or even my friends. For I’m the son of a White dad and Asian mom, and not a Black dad and white mom.

I would never have disturbed her happy blonde world, with my Eurasian angst. I have some basic decency. She wasn’t born into a hate despised race. Its not her fault, I was born of wmaf. She had nothing to do with it. Why should this be dropped on her head? These are the problems for anonymous internet commentators to dwell over. Not her. She doesn’t need to be troubled by me. She deserved nothing but amusement and merriment, at my hands.

I wish I could have poured all this out to a real human being somewhere. Other than my parents. It could never be a real
conversation with them. Obviously they had a staked interest in wmaf. It was more a personal attack on their marriage, than honest discussion.

But no one else, would ever have ears to listen to something like this. And I wouldn’t burden anyone, I actually liked with it. I won’t disturb her happy world, with my Eurasian hell. She has nothing to do with it. Lets keep it that way.

anonygirl told me to ask Lotte’s opinion on all this. I don’t know what Lotte, would have said. Honestly, I don’t to know. I wouldn’t want to disturb her image of me. I was happy and confident with her. And there was not so much to fear. I had just come into port from stormy suicidal waters, and the black storms of depression lay in the future. And this was a moment of calm, in which I could do whatever I wanted, since I had nothing to fear or lose.

People didn’t consider me Asian when I was with Lotte. This guy was shocked to hear it, and said he thought I was Italian. And that was the highest compliment that could be paid to me during those better days. I thought against gravity, I could outrun my Hapaness and find happiness.

I know now that it was an impossible dream.

I have a very beautiful letter from a precious white lovely, written in 2012. I wanted to suicide with this letter at the time. This could have been my Young Werther moment. SEML was behind me and I had almost forgotten about it. I was just a man. A universal man. I might as well have been German like Werther. I didn’t need to be defined by these Hapa issues. In the suicide wave after Werther, some young men, did not even bother to write out their own suicide notes. They just put on Werther’s blue coat, turned to the page in the book for his suicide note, and then blew their brains out. So unoriginal. So beautiful. So universal. Those days are gone for me. I’m no longer a universal man. I’m defined by my own particularities. Race, specifically, sadly.

I could write her back. Tell her that I was not the boy, she thought she knew. How desperately unhappy I really am. One time I gave her an opening to ask for what I was. I ignored her question, and gave her no answer. Its not the 1st time, I had shunned such a question from a pretty white girl. I could not let them know all the pain, behind any answer. Nor did I have the right lie. I didn’t call them racist, white devils, for even encroaching on such private questions. And so the only proper answer is to give none. To refuse the question.

And so it is a stupid idea to ever talk to a girl about these issues. They don’t want to hear about it. Nor could they ever truly
understand. And yet the reason I’m revisiting an old comment from 2011, is because a part of me now, wishes I could. As impossible as it is. But this is just craving pity. This is not showing the strength of character, I needed then, and shall need in the future. I will never again touch this past.

At least, from my lowest depths, I was able to come back from suicide, and win the happiest moments of my life. And maybe to you they are nothing. But to me as a Hapa they are everything. And if I had suicided then, everything would have been better. To have died with beauty, love and romantic heartbreak. Instead of the racial, biological, misery that enchains me now. It was an enchanted world. Even if a full year after I had already written SEML.

Its funny. My last post on SEML, was about how I had settled all my WMAF problems, by lying that I had an Asian dad and white mom. This was originally from an email I sent to Natalie, I met her online, and she was interested in helping me through some of my Eurasian problems. Perhaps I will go into our correspondence in a future post, as she was present at the formation of this blog. Although she never knew about it.

The funny thing is, I never had a chance to use the AMWF line. Except with middle aged white men, who ended up seeing me with my WMAF parents anyway.

But I never had the chance or opportunity to use it on my peers or a white girl. And maybe its for the best. The barrage of “what are you?” “where are you from?” questions, have not disturbed me so much in recent years. And I never even had to tell people I was an AMWF Hapa. Maybe they did, just see a person in me. Wouldn’t that be nice. I wouldn’t even care about rejection, if I was rejected as a human being, a person, a man. And not as a Eurasian.

But obviously, I don’t believe that is the case. I don’t believe we live in a post-racial society. I believe that everyone sees the Eurasianess in me. Perhaps it hasn’t always been so simple. I never had a single racist incident in college. But I believe what I read online. I’ve never had a personal bad experience with an Asian woman, and yet I write of them in disgust in my blog, because of statistics and internet anecdotes. I’ve never had a white girl openly reject me based on race. But you can credit me that one, since it is not too naive to believe they wouldn’t say it to my face. A lot of Asian men online, claim that white women are very open about saying it to their faces. I believe what I read online. And in a future post, I will explain my methodology of why I do.

This was a rambling post. It is the closest I shall come to following anonygirl’s advice. It is holding a conversation about the issues most dear to me, with those most dear with me. Even if it is all in my head.

I mostly stayed away from personal issues in 2011. But what does it matter now? All is lost. Its all in the past now. There wont be any more personal issues for me. I’m no longer a person. There are no longer characters in the story of my life. I will never be at home with myself. The times where I faked happiness are far behind me now.

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One Response

That’s fine. Your days of faking happiness should be behind you.
You have learned much; you have grown immensely.
But here’s the thing: the ways you are growing are leading you to reach out toward real happiness.
YES!

REAL HAPPINESS!!

Happiness that you create in your own special and fully unique way, just for you!

My existentially-bound friend, please step back and out of your world for just one moment with me:

Let us look at the world around us, at the people, at their faces. let’s try to peel back the illusory veneer which tells us that they are all having a swinging, good time.

As we peel back the layers we see that they are not all having a swinging, good time.

Not all. How many-not all?

Here’s the dirty little secret that no one wants to know and no one wants to share:

NO ONE IS HAVING A SWINGING GOOD TIME!!

REALLY!!

Our imagination has cast everyone as having a swinging, good time, but it’s our imagination!!

OUCH!!

My intelligent friend: EVERYONE struggles with this human condition!!

The white boys, the Asian women– your own mom and dad!!

The white women, the Asian guys, the hapas everywhere!!

The blonde beauties, the homely book worms, the party people, the bespectacled accountant-types…

The motorcycle riders, the people in cabs, the bankers, the lawyers, the retail sales folks…the newest mothers and the oldest grandfathers…

The rich, the poor, the middle class… In the USA, in Europe, all around the world…

Literally everyone you can see or imagine is struggling in this life-quest for meaning and purpose…

You, my friend, are seriously NOT ALONE!!

Yes, I know it is very painful to look at your parents and respect them for their choices.

I know you would want to if you could, but they are such an anathema to you that you see them as freaks…and ergo, yourself.

But, please realize that they see themselves as freaks, too! In fact, most everyone alive has viewed themselves as a freak of some variety.

Here’s the other dirty, little secret: There is no normal!!

No Normal!!

Saturday Secret Three: We all MAKE OUR OWN REALITY!!

YES!!

So, here’s your chance to once again break the mold, bust out of the sluggish paradigm which you feel confines you and create a world that is yours to enjoy, as best you can!!

You CAN find meaning and purpose to your life! You CAN create a life that is rare and special and wonderful, and though still wrought with pain and the existential condition that some of us have acknowledged, we can still create the beauty and joy and wonder and sweet, precious moments of life that are ours alone to savor and enjoy as we soar to new heights in our own precious vessel of expanding consciousness.

You need your body for this experience.

Please take care of your body for it is your precious vessel of expanding cosmic consciousness.

You are on a journey to your soul. Your Soul Journey. And these moments of your life–every one of them–is special and unique to you, and to cherish them as the personal challenge to find the nuggets of wisdom that you reveal to yourself and relish in your quiet moments…these are your special gifts! Your treats!!

As has been said before, “There’s no time like the present and no present like the time”…

Give yourself the time of the present and your gifts will emerge and be beautiful, just like your inner soul is.

Peel back the veneer that is robbing your of this inner peace and freedom and you will discover yourself — a MAN — imbued with great capacity to do wonderful things in this world EVERYDAY!!

Cherish your life! Cherish these moments! It’s SO WORTH IT!!

You will find these Truths when you diligently seek them. I know it seems dark and horrible sometimes, but, be brave, Dear Friend. Face the unknown and know that you will overcome these hurdles you see looming in front of you…

They are illusions!!

You are as free and wonderful as you can possibly imagine, so get on it!